Dark, Twisted, Beautiful
by xoxoNatalie101
Summary: Damien Thorn is the son of Satan, training since he was a young child in preperation for the day he becomes ruler of Hell. Narrow-minded and angry at heart, he hates all humans. This is the story of how he changed, for better and for worst.
1. Part One: The Sickest Of Games

A long time ago, before there was even such thing as time, there existed only one God, only one being. He wanted to use His gifts and wonders to create something, so He began to make light. Because there had to be something to contrast it, He made darkness. And in addition He made a large round landmass in which He called Earth. This was Day 1 out of the seven; keep in mind that the days back then were much longer then it is now.

He figured He would need some assistance if He was going to carry out his Plan, so on Day 2 God made Heaven. Withen heaven He created souls which were titled angels, whose one purpose was to spread and protect happiness. However, God chose three special angels, archangels, created to reflect majesty and beauty. Micheal had eternity, Gabriel had awareness; and the greatest light and balance, Lucifer, had infinity.

The days following were going well; on Day 3 He made dry land, vegetation, and the sea. On Day 4 He made the sun, moon and stars. On Day 5 He made living creatures in the waters and birds in the air. Problems began to arise though on Day 6, in which God created land animals and man. Lucifer quickly grew angry and jealous about God's new-found, (and clearly) favorite creation. The archangel did not appreciate being replaced and was quick to shun the humans; and with his followers Lucifer rose up against his own kind. A heated battle between the supporters and the rebels was fought, specificly between Lucifer and Micheal. At long last Micheal defeated Lucifer with one final shove, sending him and eventually his followers out of Heaven, and even further, down beneath earth, into a pace were all you could see was dark barren land. A place that God had not intended to even remotely make.

As Lucifer weakly stood up and gazed around at his new cage, it wasn't long before he narrowed his dark eyes, clenched his bruised bloody knuckles. How /dare/ those imbeciles send them down here,…they won't hear the last of him! He'll take his revenge on those damn angels, they'll see! One day, when he's strong enough, and has enough followers, he'll rise above the pits, above the earth and into the heavens, were he, Lucifer, will /probe/ that they will regret the day they banished him, and God will regret the day that He created man! The black haired male grinned darkly, eyes glinting red as his broken, dirt covered wings hung on his back like a wet shirt on a clothesline. This newfound energy, this incredible anger, was so strong that it literally became a being; on the seventh Day, while the angels were rejoicing and God was resting, Lucifer created fire.

On the days that followed, once humans were beginning to carve their paths into the Earth, Lucifer was titled the leader of the unholy lands, which he called Hell. In addition, he declared a full-on war against God; when a person happened to die, it was based on their actions whether they were worthy in the Hell army or not.

As Hell grew larger and days turned to centuries, Lucifer was slowly becoming paranoid. He did not want to risk the chance of ever becoming weak. So, to preserve the 'family power', he made it a requirement that the leader of Hell must mate with another family demon after they have ruled about 500 years. And if, there so happened to be a shortage of females, they had to mate with a female human, thus creating a demon spawn.

This is were my story begins.


	2. Part Two: Out Of Sight, Still In Mind

My full name is Damien Karl Benito Thorn. Obviously it's Damien informally; I refuse nicknames of any kind. The mere concept revolts me and makes me question the reasoning behind the human's stupidity. Then again, most of the imbecilic actions they brainlessly do is completely beyond me. Especially Facebook. I can't wait to use my new whips on the guy who made that brainwashing website.

Anyway, I reside with my father along with other robotic slaves in our large, mansion-like estate. For a human (or a demon going down the main portal) it's the first thing that they should see. It's not like it's hard to miss; besides the large boulders and assorted rock daggers laying about it's the only real thing in Hell. After being translated from Latin the mansion is called, 'Paradise of the Devil.' The style is very similar to an old Italian cathedral, being split into three sections. The first floor is literally only one room, with the only decorations being demons carved out of graphite, the dust black walls so narrow it seems as if it would break any given moment. Once the poor unfortunate soul has finished walking down this room (which could actually take a while, depending on the person) they come to me. Yes, you heard correctly; my main job down here is to record and send every soul to their designated spots. If I'm not training my powers, of course.

Now, when they reach the desk that I wait as calmly as possible behind, I question their name. It's the only thing required to find out their past, thoughts and actions, but the tendency to become frantic once the realization hits that they are actually in Hell and are actually talking to a demon is frequent. And quite obnoxious, I must add. Seriously. You have all fucking eternity to whine about how you never lived life to the fullest, or how you're missing a leg, or how you will never see your wife again. Which is probably a lie. Nevertheless, I give them a good 60 seconds or so to either finish rambling or be a jackass, in which I bring them up to the second floor, were the torture chambers and cells are held. We keep a few prisoners for multiple reasons; they threaghtened our authority, they had done something extremely terrible in the past, they were simply annoying. It's also a brilliant way to release sexual tension, I must add. We usually keep them there until the cells are filling up quickly, or we simply forgot that they still existed. I can't even count with my fingers the amount of times my father had just left prisoners in the cells to rot to dust.

There have been a few occasions in which a lucky bastard managed to scramble out of the chambers and into the main hallway, attempting to somehow escape. I say lucky only because they were fucking retards. If they were paying attention when they were entering the 2nd floor, they should have noticed that there are no real doors here in Hell. Only demons and their assistants may open or close portals, which is how we get around. And, for fuck's sake, they did somehow escape, it wouldn't be long until the soldiers get them. Again, another example of human ignorance.

I actually must mention, before I forget, that once the cells are filled, or we haven't entirely got anything to use against them, we send them out into Hell to do whatever the fuck they want. The majorities of them just hide in the shadows and wallow in self misery and agony, but a few humans see the freedom and take advantage of it. I respect people who can do that. Better then wearing a white dress and being forced to play the harp, that's all I can say about that.

So, in conclusion to all this, the third floor of the mansion is were me, the demons, ol' Grim and the soldiers live. Of course /my/ room is right next to Ai, the asian freak. My father believed that since we were both around the same age we'd get along. News flash: anyone who calls themselves the Hell Girl is a no life bozo that would prefer to be with humans more then half the time. Not to mention she eats all of the cherries in the house just to spite me, that bitch. I'll be the last one laughing once I'm the dark ruler of the underworld /and/ earth. So suck on that, Ai.

I suppose overall I enjoy my time here in Hell. It's the place that should not be blamed for my troubles, rather more I am. To start with, demons don't have a conscience, so they don't have problems, therefore exist with no worries. I am extremely ashamed to admitting that I am not a full demon, forced to slave with the burden of guilt and inability to forget like a human. Absolutely disgusting, if I were to blame anyone, though, it would be Diane Thewgan, who bore me until it was time for birth. That whore should probably be around here at this point but it's absolutely pointless in searching for her. For one thing, it's hard to find someone based on their EHarmony account; many things could happen in the time of death. For all I know she could have entered Hell charred and smelling like a barbeque. And besides, I'm pretty positive that Diane would have gone insane after giving birth to a demon spawn.

If, let's say, I do wind up running into my biological mother in some sick twist of fate, it's not like it would bring some form of self righteousness or make me go, hey, I'm totally not living (or existing, since I was never born to begin with) my life properly. All of that bullshit you see on the stupid Hallmark movies. It would still come down to the fact that I would still be seen as a lesser value because of my curse; I would still be a freak amongst the kingdom of outcasts. I'd like to tell myself that this kind of rejection causes motivation, but unlike my father I do not lie. I am the type of demon that believes there is a hidden fear in the truth. I believe that there is a fear within a specific truth nobody would admit. The big reason for that is because they simply don't know; worst ignorance of all. But I know. I know my fear. And no, it's not being recognized as weak.

This fear began when I was about twelve years old. My father had ordered me to go up and check on the jail cells; there I was, doing role call by the letters outside the cage. I had reached BC-L when I realized that the soul in there, William Peck, was no where to be seen. After pausing for a moment to glance around I turned to see the man across the hallway, the only person who could catch sight of Mr. Peck, crouched in the corner and shivering. I asked him what had happened. He told me that William was fine one day but suddenly started gagging. Wasn't long before he keeled over and stopped moving. He also claimed that he saw with his own eyes (this he emphasized a lot) William slowly disappear out of thin air. Completely gone within seconds. This man was convinced for some reason that I was the cause behind this event but I had never heard of something so psychotic in my life. It threw me through a loop; for days I was in a funk. Honestly I think I still am, in a way. Hearing this sudden theory made me think about something that had never occurred to me before.

Whenever I was completely alone I would allow my mind to wander, and it always went in the direction of that subject. Sudden horrific questions clouded my mind; my father had told me my entire life that once a human died it went to either heaven or Hell, and that was that. If there so happened to be a bigger dimension, one that went beyond the pits of hell, that would mean that it was possible for a soul to die. If a soul died, did that mean it was sent into that bigger dimension, or did it simply disappear? If it were sent to the bigger dimension, did they feel any pain? Emotion? Could they still remember anything from their past life? Was this dimension completely dark, like a black hole? And if souls could die, did that mean demons could as well?...the idea of being erased from existence and not fulfilling my purpose scared the fucking crap out of me. And it still does.


	3. Part Three: You Had Me At

I had awoken to the normal sound of a soul screaming for mercy. On days like these I tend to wake abruptivly, eyes popping open as if I just had been slapped in the face. I suppose this would have be the part of the book, if this were an American novel of some sort, in which the adolescent rolls over onto his or her side and checks to see what time it is. Thing is there is no time in Hell, being that our source of light and heat is the fire, not the sun. Besides, it's too complicated having to pick what time zone to rely on. That being said I simply sat straight up, swung my legs off the side of the bed and stood up, only pausing for a moment to stretch my arms. As I did so I let my eyes lazily glance around until it came along a mirror, sitting directly across from me. It was a rugged old thing, cracked right down the middle and cobwebs strewn on every corner.

I lowered my arms and stared back at myself. It has been a while since I looked at my reflection; instantly I arched my back and tilted my head up high in an attempt to make myself look older, more defined. No such luck. I exhaled and returned back to my original body position, my thin rat0like tail slowly dragging itself back and forth along the chipped rock flooring. 17 years old and I still felt like a child. Yes, I had muscles from after the years of training, but it was nothing like my father's. my horns did not even look threaghtening;…I raised a hand up and lifted my upper lip. Puny human canines, nothing like the daggers they were supposed to be. My stare turned into a glare, my naked self returning the frustration at an even stronger level. I am such a complete, utter fai—

"Damien, are you awake son?"

The call from my father snapped me out of my funk, making me twist my head away from the mirror to the portal. "Yes father, I am." I replied back.

"Oh, that's good." The sound of a whip, a sudden wail, and him adding on with a louder voice. "Can you come down and give your old man a hand?"

I sighed. "Yes father." Forcing my feet to walk I went over to the bare wall, waiting only a moment until the portal flashed open with a sudden spark of light; I did not bother to put on any clothes because 'ey, this is my fucking home. I do whatever the hell I want.

Stepping through the wall, the portal closed itself as I picked up my pace slightly down a small, narrow, spiral staircase into the second floor, my eyes landing once again on the cells. Walking through the thin hallway, I kept my hands by my sides as I locked my eyes forward. The only sound that was heard was the cracking of a whip and a shrill woman's scream, indicating that my father was in the torture chambers. At long last when I reached the end of the hallway I followed the gradually growing noise up to chamber number Three, in which I tilted my head and peered inside.

Cherry and black blood was splattered along the floor, my father's red arse to me. I grimaced slightly. Not something I wanted to see after awakening. He did not entirely notice me until after the screaming died down a bit; a moment or so passed before he turned his head to me and cracked a wide grin. "Good morning son!" Belted my father as if he had rehearsed, a bloodly, slightly torn whip dangling from his hand.

I widened my eyes before averting them away. "I supposed,…" I muttered, swallowing thickly. Another example of how I was a failure; demons never felt ashamed. At least, they never proved it. Then again I wouldn't be able to look at my father without catching eye of his erected penis,…

"Good, very good Damien." I heard him say. "Don't act shy, come closer! I want to have a word with you."

Sighing, I kept my eyes to the floor as I shuffled toward the sound of his voice. Please, make this humiliating moment surpass. "What do you need, father?"

"Damien, me and Grim have been talking, and we have concluded that—'ey, look at me when I'm talking to you. Don't be rude."

I grit my teeth before quickly yanking my head upward, trying to avoid catching a glimpse of his junk. Now that I was in front of my father I could see that behind him a young woman was chained to the bricked wall, slightly crying. Bright purple sore spots spread like a disease along her naked body; by the scent of her blood I'd say she was in her mid twenties. Just as I was about to focus back onto my father's face the female shifted her eyes to me, and for a moment we both just stared at each other. It looked like she was trying to tell me something,…

"Now, as I was saying…oh, yes. After a long discussion with Grim, I've decided that although you have been working ve-,…no, extremely well with your training and such, that at this rate you will not be accepted as the ruler of Hell any time soon.

…what? "I,…I-I do not understand what you mean by that father…" I muttered, my voice not as weak as I felt.

He narrowed his dark eyes. "Do your ears not work?" If I cannot find you fit as ruler, you won't be allowed to be as such."  
>I could feel my pupils dilute. Literally. It was as if my entire world was quickly shrinking down, to the point that I was having trouble breathing. This was probably some sick joke; my father always had a sick sense of humor…I searched his face for salvation only to receive a stern frown. Oh sweet Satan, this was not happening to me…I have been working too hard and too long to simply be pushed aside! I swallowed thickly and stood up straighter. " I heard what you have said father, but it would be a lie if I stood before you and agreed with your beliefs."<p>

A moment passed. He simply stared back at me. This was a pretty good sign that I wouldn't have to fight with him or anything. "…Well, this is a bit out of character for you, isn't it Damien?" I watched as my father arched a brow, his gaze softening slightly. "You're usually the obedient type…"  
>"Oh no, I can assure you I am." I nodded quickly while rocking side to side slowly, stretching out the muscles in my stiff legs. "I just-…I believe that I am more then ready to be the ruler. If you don't believe me, go ahead. I will accept any challenge you have to offer."<p>

There it was again, that moment of silence my father chose to spend thinking and observing the opposite member of the conversation. I bet by now the abused woman was watching this whole snafu based on the fact that I could still hear her raspy breathing, but I didn't dare allow my eyes to dart away from my father's face. At long last he reacted by chuckling deep in his throat. Taking a single step forward he looked down at me almost fondly, which was strange enough in itself. "Son." He placed a large hand on my shoulder; I blinked in return. "Your fiery passion is very admirable. It's true, you have the physical strength, but I don't think you have the mentality of a ruler yet. You have yet to learn how to act and be around the humans."

…what the fuck. My eyes began to narrow once again but this time it was out of my control. "I do not understand what you mean, father. I've never heard a dark Lord having to become friends with those pale flesh bags." I sneered.

"Take what I say seriously Damien. I'm much older and wiser then you, and what I've learned over the centuries is that it's easier to…to adapt to the ways of the humans and learn the reasoning behind their mental instability. It's better to do that rather then blindly follow your own ignorant version of them." Said my father with a slight shrug.

I huffed angrily. Did he just call me ignorant? How inconsiderate, that ass. "I don't need to learn about them because I already know what they are; stupid imbeciles that deserved to be punished for their selfish acts. Mutts are better then them."

"There you go again, acting as if all of the humans were bad." He rolled his eyes as he said this, yanking his hand off my shoulder. "What did they ever do to you to ever make you have such distaste for them?"

I was about to snap back a reply but instead stayed silent. I knew the exact answer to that question…being mocked and bullied the first time I went to a human elementary school. "I…I am simply stating the facts father."

"Well you should stop being so narrowed minded if you want to get my approval." A dead silence hung in the air, damp and moist like mold. I could feel myself slowly become more impatient; at this point in the argument I understood what his point was, and he was obviously staying quiet for an obnoxious dramatic effect. Dammit…I could feel my tail's swinging pace pick up. I finally allowed my eyes to relax and move downward to the dirty floor. Aaany second no—"Consider it your final challenge before the Final Day, Damien."

Challenge?...I /have/ always been attracted to challenges, but was I digging my own grave by accepting? Me and humans were like oil to water; surely I could come to a different conclusion with him. I turned my head fully to my father's and locked eyes with warm black coals gazing back at me. Before I could say anything he chuckled, deep and hearty, as if he meant it. "I know you wouldn't be able to resist Son; the look in your eyes tell me everything I need to know. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to finish my business here."

Although I kept a monotonic expression on my face as I nodded and twisted away I could not help but mentally scold myself for not being more assertive. The last thing currently on my mind would be having brunch with some bitch on her period….damn it all.

I would have continued to rant if the sudden begging for repentance and a snap of a neck hadn't distracted me.


	4. Part Four: Self Proclaimed Hatred

The first thing I went to earth it was during a blizzard in a small hick town atop a mountain.

I was only four years old at the time, but it was the day before my birthday, December 21st. my hand was grasped by my father's large comforting grip. I tried my best to walk at the same pace as my father and Uncle Grim, dressed all in black while using the master of illusion to hide any demon features. Once we had exited the main portal into earth I instantly shuddered; it was much colder then the 97 degree heat back home. How could humans remotely stand this kind of weather?

My father must have noticed me shaking because he paused in order to look down and observe me. I stared back up with wide eyes, abnormally flat teeth chattering. He looked over at Uncle Grim, only for a moment, before kneeling down and scooping me into his arms. My legs wrapped around his waist, his muscular arm holding me close as we continued down the side street, passing were the Tweek coffee shop currently stands. I clearly remember darting my eyes to my father's face and thinking, damn, he sure looks ugly as a human, so pale and…fleshy, if need be of a better term. Obviously I was currently seeing new things such as trees and birds, but for some reason the only thing I was focusing on was how weird we all looked. Funny how that works.

A small snowfall was already beginning to layer the slush as we approached the destination, brisk wind tousling our hair in miscandelous directions. Atop the long building "South Park Preschool" flashed back at us with cartoony black letters. "Son, today is a very special day for you." My father's strong deep voice rang out against the silence while the two men went across the lawn, towards a very large window which streamed a single beam of light against the darkness. "Today is the day that your training will begin."  
>I inhaled deeply, my small fist tightening onto the wrinkle of his shirt; a parent using the word special was just another way of saying important. Even at a young age I understood why I had to train, the necessity of it all. What I hadn't known was that the training was the very reasoning behind my existence. "What will I have to do." I mumbled, my childish voice barley heard above the crunching of the boots.<p>

"It's quite simple, really." Uncle Grim said with almost a Joker grin. He waved a hand towards the window as we were now right in front of it. "Just pick one of the children here, and we'll be on our way back home in no time."

"Does it matter which human I choose?" I blinked, brows raised.

"Ahh,…heh, well, not entirely. Whichever one stands out to you, I suppose." Shrugged Grim, his eyes rolling skyward. I must quickly mention the mere fact that this action creeped me out, being that I never saw Grim as anything besides bones, let alone having eyes.

With a small nod I turned my head to face the window once again, intently staring in order to grasp onto all of the strange events that were going on before me. For starters, there were many colors; brightly shaded, in many different tones. The names did not matter to me, I just knew that I really liked looking at all of the things going on. All of the children were sprawled across the room, either keeping to themselves with wooden blocks or tiny machine-looking utensils, or by interacting with each other. It seemed warmed in there, since most of them did not feel the need to wear a coat. I remember feeling jealous of them for that.

I scanned the room once again. The majority of children seemed happy, laughing or shrieking from excitement. One brunette, slightly chubby, sat beside the teacher and wailed, clutching tightly onto a light blue blanket. That one stood out like a sore thumb, but not in the way I believe Uncle Grim meant…I scowled impatiently as I turned my head away, only for a moment. I remember thinking how all of these children acted and seemed the same, and just as I thought this I felt a sudden strange feeling begin to urk me. It was as if someone was-…I glance back into the room to lock eyes with a young boy with the bluest pearls in the world. I could literally feel my jaw drop; I was surrounded by demons with dark hair and eyes, whilst this kid here was completely different. Freckles dusted his nose and cheeks, gloves with ripped fingertips gripped onto the window frame. He wore orange sweatpants, orange parka, gray scarf that was mot bitten wrapped around his head, covering his mouth. It seemed to me that the skinny male's eyes were glistening, shining, and it stunned me to see someone so,…alive.

"Well? Have you picked one yet?" My father spoke abruptivly, snapping me out of my trance. I ignored him and continued to stare at my sudden new interest. I didn't have to know why to know that I liked him. The idea of me liking a human disgusts me now; it was if I were rebelling against the code of the demons in the weirdest, most innocent way possible.

He probably was called over to the teacher, because the blonde whipped his head around to glance at the children beginning to swarm around the center of the room. He turned his focus back to me and did something I'd never seen before; the small boy smiled and waved before spinning on his heels and darting away, leaving me even more stunned to begin with.

"Ah c'mon kiddo, I'm freakin' shakin' in mah boots here!" Grim wailed. I didn't bother to even look to know that he was exaggerating. "Just pick a damn brat already so we can go home!"

"Grim!" My father snapped. "Do not speak to Damien like that again, he will take all the time h—"

"I chose my kid."

I could feel the two pair of eyes lock onto me. "Oh…" I heard my father say in a softer tone. "Would you like to show us?"

I pointed.

Grim leaned in very close to the glass before clearly scowling. "Ya mean that ni-…I mean ah, that african american over there?"

I shook my head. "The boy next to him."

"…heh. Ahahahaaaa~ No way man, nope. /That/ scrawny little kid? This has got to be a joke…isn't it?"

"Grim, stop that. We have to respect his decision…if he wants the blonde, he'll get it."

"Yeah yeah yeah, I already know that. But,…seriously lil' spawn, are you sure this is the one?"

I nodded.


End file.
